I am the other woman's daughter. Though I came first, I did not come when the heart was decided. And didn't leave, when it changed its mind. I am the other woman's daughter. Daughter of the ex. Spare of a High School romance. Extra of the second broken marriage, and annoyance of the third. Daughter … Continue reading Daughter of the Other Woman
Tag: childhood
About Father
He, the great who knows he is great, takes his time with sturdy shoes and a shop full of the world's next wonders carving for himself a legacy that he knows is a legacy. So many hate him for knowing it. He, the rich, who only speaks not of it because, to him, there's a … Continue reading About Father
My Second Step-Father
She told me to call him Father, because my real Daddy had abandoned me long ago. And she said this with her new husband in the room. Father didn't like me. Said I didn't know respect, though, to this day, I've never been able to peice together what made up his needed respect. She told … Continue reading My Second Step-Father
Of Step-Dad the First
Down the worn carpet baby blue, but beloved to the door I was so familiar with touching My feet, small then led me to the bed where my father stood oddly haggard as he woved, peice by peice his strewn wardrobe. 'Father' asked I Little voice. 'Where are you going?" His answer was vague even … Continue reading Of Step-Dad the First
Of Mother
I remember two-year-old me bouncing on the ratty queen bed in my grandfather's basement throwing a rock at my mother's TV. She had found the rock who knows where, but she collected odd things like that. Whatever reminded her of vast open spaces where Indians ran free. She came out of the bathroom in … Continue reading Of Mother
My Muse?
"I will not help you," she said. "You dangle too much on the edge of reality and hope that I'm much too aware of your stupid means." But I already knew I was stupid. Isn't that why I couldn't write tonight? But then again, I never meant her any pink offenses. Even if what I … Continue reading My Muse?